Addiction
by chizry
Summary: It's gotten worse than ever...so all that's left is the pain, the blood, and the cherry Lifesaver. Oneshot, post Grave Danger.


**Addiction**

Spoilers: post-Grave Danger

A/N: Please review. First fanfic…need to know if it's any good.

- - - - - - -

Greg Sanders didn't know what was worse: being blown up by a fireball in a lab, or being buried alive with fire ants in your pants.

Of course, that would've been the quirky lab-rat side talking.

He was relieved that Nick survived the latter ordeal, really he was. It was that he couldn't say the same about himself.

Being in that crime lab at the wrong time was the most horrible mistake in his life. At the time, he was grateful that Grissom allowed him to finally be a CSI and not a lab techie, but now he wasn't quite sure. He really didn't even solve the case; just pinpoint the wrong death to the wrong person. Maybe it was just a pity consolation of Grissom's for those fading but still angry scars slashed across his back.

_Who wants an inexperienced clown to do serious work, anyway? _Greg unconsciously muttered under his breath.

"What'd you say?" The brunette standing across from him looked up as the words left his mouth.

Sara Sidle cocked her head to the side as Greg waved her off. "Nothing."

She frowned as Greg resumed silence once more, reaching for his pack of Lifesavers. It really wasn't like him to be quiet, but right now, no one was in normality.

Glancing back down to the evidence lying on the table, the two CSIs went back to work on their case.

- - - - - - -

For a Texan cowboy who lived for Wild West rodeos and gun-shooting, Nick Stokes sure didn't want the adventure of a lifetime to be the only one he'd ever get. Fire ants may be Grissom's cup of tea, but Nick wasn't too keen on having them for a midnight snack.

Right now all Nick wanted was a back scratcher.

"You okay, buddy?" Warrick Brown shot a concerned eye to where the other man was trying to rub his arms in a futile effort to calm the itching.

Nick grinned. "As good as being itchy as can be," he chuckled as he tried to reach for one of the bites on his back. Man, those hurt like hell. Considering they burned as much.

Both partners laughed as a red-haired woman poked her head through the break room door. "I thought you left already!" Catherine chided as Nick continued to scratch.

"Relax, Willows." He drawled in the classic Southern accent. "Besides, I'll be back before you know it."

"I still think Gil should've given you another week off…"

Nick shrugged. "I don't need it, Cath. I'm fine."

"Doesn't look like it."

Warrick stepped in. "Leave Nick to his fire ants' kisses, Cath."

"While I'm gonna leave Cath's kisses to you."

A triumphant grin broke across Nick's face as the other two flushed with embarrassment.

- - - - - - -

Silver flashed in the dim light, reflecting the fluorescent lamps in the locker room. Upon closer inspection, the sharp metal was edged with a warm, crimson liquid.

It was his addiction for as long as he could remember after the Nick ordeal.

Greg sighed as it crossed his skin for the 3rd time that night. Old scars hid the new ones, he knew. Otherwise he would have been put in a psychiatric hospital by now.

In his hand, free from the blood running off his arm, was a resignation slip he took from Grissom. Filled out down to the very last letter. All that was left to do was to deliver the paper right into the team leader's lap.

Setting the paper down carefully to avoid any blood splatter, Greg moved to the sink to wash the red streaks, just in time as Nick sauntered into the room.

"Hey, Greggo, just leaving for toni-…..what the fuck is that?"

_Shit._ "Nothing." Instead of stashing the yellow sheet into his duffel bag, Greg had left it laying on the bench right out in the open. _How stupid can I be?_ He avoided Nick's prying eyes.

"You're leaving?" It was more of a statement than a question. Still, Greg didn't turn around. So Nick did it for him. Grabbing the younger CSI's shoulder, he yanked with just enough strength so that Greg was no longer facing the sterile white walls but a very livid face. "You can't leave us, the team, you can't do that!"

Greg was trying his hardest to hide the anger that was seeping into his voice. "It's none of your business."

"Damn right it isn't! We need you!"

With a bitter laugh, Greg rudely shoved off the hand lying on his shoulder. "Don't tell me that. I'm not fit for a CSI, and making me be one was just a pity prize." Frost dripped from his voice like icicles.

Nick blinked in surprise. Where did this angsty, violent Greg come from? "That's not true, Greggo! Sure, there's been a few mistakes but we've all made them."

"I could've killed Sara that day, you know. Then would it have been a mistake?"

It took Nick a moment to figure out what Greg was talking about. Then it hit him: the lab explosion. "That wasn't your fault and you know it. It could've happen to any of us."

Knowing that the other man was trying to get him to stay, Greg chose that moment to leave. Grabbing the duffel bag laying on the floor, he marched through the door and brushed past a confused Sara standing right outside.

"Greg?" Sara wrinkled her forehead in concern as her friend stomped off in the direction of Grissom's office. Finding no answer, she turned to Nick.

"He'll be back, Sara." Trying to reassure himself, Nick muttered, "I hope."

Forgotten on the porcelain sink counter was a clean razor blade.

- - - - - - -

_Hey, Greg. I know you've got to be home…and I'm really worried right now. Please call me….please? _

Sara's voice rang throughout a small kitchen, finishing with a sigh of defeat. The answering machine stood amidst half-drunken bottles of beer and crumpled newspapers. Once immaculate and clean, the apartment looked exactly how Greg felt. A piece of crap.

Right now, though, Greg was in painful bliss. Drunk and nearly passed out on the couch, he imagined that what he heard was a false note of concern. All those years of having an ever-growing crush on that girl and being rejected time after time again sliced through his mind. She didn't care, even with countless messages begging him to pick up the phone and just talk to her. Nick didn't care; those 10 messages or so really weren't to convince him to come back. And Catherine, Warrick, or the others, they didn't care either. His mind whispered thoughts of being forgotten after a week or so had passed.

Another beer and three razor blades later found the former CSI unconscious on the floor.

- - - - - - -

Pounding on the door of Greg's apartment, Sara felt foolish for checking up on Greg at a quarter past two in the morning. Already a few neighbors were opening their own doors to see what the fuss was all about.

"Excuse me, sweetie, are you looking for someone?"

Sara turned around to find Greg's landlord, a kind, elderly lady smiling amusedly up at her. With hot cheeks, she nodded. "Greg Sanders lives here, right?"

With what Sara almost thought was a knowing look, the lady gave another smile. "Yes, he does. Funny, he doesn't get very many pretty girls at his doorstep."

If at all possible, Sara flushed a deeper red. "I'm just his partner from work, ma'am."

The older lady nodded in understanding and….what was it? Affection. "It's nice of you to see him. I'll let you in." Selecting a key from a large ring, the grandmotherly figure opened the door for her. "Tell him that Mrs. Hoober says hello." With that, she disappeared to her room down the hallway.

Sara stood for a moment in silence before stepping inside. A unsettling shock overcame her as a smell of alcohol reached her nostrils and hung in the air. Carefully shutting the door, she turned around and muffled her gasp with a hand. What the hell was Greg doing?

Trickles of blood ran down onto the couch upholstery as a half-naked Greg blankly cut himself over and over again, occasionally stopping to drown himself in a shot of whiskey.

A sob escaped from Sara's lips, and Greg looked up from his spot in the living room. "Oh hello, Sara."

She cringed as the words reached her ears, devoid of any emotion. "What are you doing?" She whispered as he continued to scar himself.

"Doing what a stupid lab rat does best."

With a cry, Sara ran over and plucked the razor blade from his fingers, ignoring the sharp prick of pain as it cut her own. Throwing it away, she grabbed the cleanest cloth she could find to wrap his arms in. To her surprise, Greg grabbed her wrists to stop her movements.

"I'm not worth it, Sara."

Yanking her arms from his grasp, Sara resumed bandaging his wounds, only to find him stopping her again.

"I'm not worth your time. I'm not worth your affection. I'm not worth anything."

Silent tears began to come down his face. Sara gently smiled in spite of the situation. He was coming to, even if not in the headdress-dancing Greg he used to be. Those drops of desolation showed a small hope of recovery. As he collapsed into her arms, they both gave way and hugged each other tightly. Greg clung tightly, feeling as if he let her go, this wonderful dream would disappear.

"A cherry Lifesaver...tart but sweet." He murmured into her ear.

Sara didn't know if this Greg was sober or not, but it was clear to her that he needed her. So when his lips gently touched hers begging for comfort, she didn't protest.

At first it was incredibly needy, desperate and hard, almost painful as he crashed against her. She must have winced, because in the next moment it reversed into a passionate, fiery wave of pleasure. Melting together, they sought for what they were missing all along.

Emotions released themselves as the two kissed, letting go only for needed air. She felt him relax and start to tug her shirt off, which she allowed willingly. Smoothing her hands up and down his back and chest, she gingerly felt the scars from the lab explosion. How painful it must have been, having a ball of unbearable heat consume you like a draining battery.

Carefully removing their pants and her bra, Greg had a hard time believing that this was reality, that Sara really was with him on his sagging couch. So, picking her up and curling her legs around his waist, he carried her to the bedroom where everything seemed untouched.

Once upon laying her gently on the bed, he collapsed onto the covers, taking care not to harm her. Slowly removing her last piece of clothing with excruciating care, he showered her with kisses and nips. When it came to, she relaxed and allowed him to enter.

- - - - - - -

Three days later found a quirky lab rat with another addiction.

Blue Hawaiian coffee in the mornings with his cherry Lifesaver.


End file.
